


Drowning in Memories

by ShaolinQueen



Series: Drowning and Resurfacing [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Flashbacks, Hurt Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortal Wives Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Needs a Hug, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Poisoning, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaolinQueen/pseuds/ShaolinQueen
Summary: ...while it had started with her personal mission to show how beautiful, lovable and kind his soul was, to Nicolò himself in the first place, it had evolved in such a deep brotherly bond that Quynh couldn’t imagine her immortal life without him. Without their jokes and quiet mischief that systematically drove the other two immortals insane.It’s Quynh who draws Nicolò out of his shell, and out of his guilt. And Yusuf can only be grateful.This is a story of love and family, and all the pain they went through.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Drowning and Resurfacing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083350
Comments: 82
Kudos: 350





	1. The Whole Merrick Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't written a fanfic in ages!!! But I fell in love with The Old Guard so deeply and obsessively that I just couldn't help myself. 
> 
> Then I started rambling with the amazing **ilostmyothersock** and THIS happened. She's also the one who's encouraged me to share and checked my silly mistakes. And for that I'm incredibly grateful.
> 
> I made a small edit in Quynh’s backstory, just for the sake of having more angst, which I’m addicted to. Hope you don’t mind and I hope you’ll enjoy.
> 
> Comments and feedback are very much appreciated!

After the whole Merrick disaster, they all took some time off. Unsurprisingly, since Andy had actual wounds to recover from this time, on top of the bleeding one that they were all sharing, a deep hurt that no immortality could fix. 

Even though Nile had barely experienced life with the full family, she couldn’t help but notice a shift in everybody’s behaviour. Andy was mellow, she seemed at peace with her mortality and ready to fight their next battle. She was also more open with Nile, and the former marine could finally start to understand the utter and unconditional love the other immortals felt for their boss. 

Joe was still a bit restless, his pain from Booker’s betrayal too fresh to be truly contained. Some days he was on edge and only soothed by Nicky’s quiet words. Nile would witness their exchanges in awe, wishing to experience this level of intimacy, utter trust and loyalty one day. 

He would never let his moods darken his moments with Nile though. They would spend quite a lot of time together, training and chatting about art. Nile was amazed by the passion and playfulness Joe was still capable of experiencing after all these centuries, with a heart currently bleeding no less. Nile was also sure that none of them would smile as often if Joe weren’t there to lift their spirits.

She would spend time with Nicky as well, but Nicky, opposite to Joe, was quiet. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t talk willingly, on the contrary he had very clear opinions on many subjects, from the meaning of their immortality to why fusilli was the best kind of pasta. It was more the way he would articulate his thoughts, soft spoken words with a finality that could only mean he had thought a lot about that certain topic. 

Nicky had always had this calm and safe demeanor as far as she had seen, even when the discussion had grown heated, back at the pub, as they were determining Booker's fate. 

However Nile noticed him taking long walks by himself, less certain and more pensive, and more than once sleepily spotted the older immortal on her way to the bathroom, reading a book in the middle of the night while the rest of the family was asleep. 

And yet Nicky, same as Joe, never stopped answering her questions, or patiently teaching her how to cook - something he really seemed to enjoy. It was so easy to talk to him then, to seek reassurance and guidance, knowing she could always count on his gentle smile and soft, measured words.

That’s why she was kind of relieved to see that Nicky was once again awake when she shakily went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and try to calm her nerves. 

The nightmare had been bad. It was Quynh again, and she was screaming and thrashing against high flames, her skin burning and her hair on fire. Then she was back again in the ocean, mutely screaming for help. Hearing her voice though, painfully raspy because of the flames and the smoke, had shaken Nile more than usual, normally used to Quynh’s silent fury underwater. 

“Nile,” Nicky murmured in greeting. He looked up from his book as soon as she entered the room, hand still holding his head. She had seen him reading in this position many times. 

“Hey Nicky,” she replied as quietly and joined him at the table. Nicky closed the book then, his full attention on her as he realised she was silently hoping for one of their chats. Nile was again amazed by how perceptive Nicky could be _._ He didn’t ask if she was okay, as she clearly wasn’t, but he covered her hand with his, offering a gentle smile.

“I’ll make some tea.” 

She nodded in gratitude and watched as he started to fill in the kettle and quietly gather all the necessities for their impromptu night cup. Nicky didn’t push, didn’t probe, but there was a tranquility in his gestures, an openness that clearly stated _take your time, I’ll be listening when you are ready_. No wonder it was so easy to open up to him. 

“I dreamt about Quynh again. It was different though,” she confessed in one breath after a pause. Nicky wasn’t facing her, busy standing by the stove, but she noticed his shoulders tensing for a moment, his tranquility broken for the briefest time. And Nile knew this was a hard subject to breach, she never spoke about these nightmares with Andy, she knew better, and she hated the immense sadness in Joe’s eyes whenever they talked about their lost sister.

With Nicky it was different though, she could talk about Booker, his betrayal, Andy’s mortality and new vulnerability, or Quynh’s silent fury - without feeling she was intruding. She knew he _knew_ she needed to talk with someone about these things, to help her understand them, to help her be a real member of the family. 

And more than once Nicky had urged Nile not to stop asking, never to, that they will always answer, that they will always help and be there for her. 

And Nile always obliged, because it was basically impossible to ignore Nicky’s big pleading eyes. 

He turned around and leaned on the counter then, watching her closely. “Why was it different?” 

Nicky rarely answered a question right away, he usually replied with another one first, she had noted. Like he really wanted to understand, probably to better provide what answer was needed. 

“She was on fire first, then back in the ocean. But I could hear her screaming, her voice… her hair was on fire before being back in the water.” Nile hesitated, then added “I never heard her voice before, it was so powerful, so raw…”

Nicky averted his eyes for a moment and she couldn’t really see what emotions passed through them. He had a solemn expression when he looked at her again. 

“Quynh was burned alive once. It was during the witch hunt around 1400. They had barely started persecuting women… this was just before Andy and Quynh were taken, before we lost her…” He paused for a moment, trying to remember something. “I think we were somewhere in France,” he continued. “Joe, Andy and myself, we died during the attack and they took her. They were fast. Our retaliation wasn’t fast enough, as she was already burning when we found her.”

Nile was almost startled when the kettle whistled, water boiling inside. 

Nicky busied himself again, filling the two mugs and putting the tea bags and lemon in.

“Her hair was a mess,” he continued, his shoulders to Nile again. “Once we had gotten far enough, I helped her fix it, but I had to cut it very short.” Another pause, then Nile could hear a smile in his voice. “Andy loved it, Quynh not so much, she said she looked like a hedgehog.”

Nile snorted, Nicky’s tone had gotten light in this last sentence, although it was taking him an awful amount of time to put two teabags in their mugs.

“Here,” he finally turned around, bringing the tea and sitting back at the table. 

“She was exceptionally beautiful, skin like porcelain and eyes as dark as night,” he remembered with a small smile “and I do believe to this day that my clumsy haircut didn’t really take anything from that beauty. But she thought it was only fair that I shaved my beard in sympathy,” he concluded with a glint in his eyes and a smirk. 

Nicky didn’t add that he also was the one who had held her in a tight embrace the night they had gotten her back, because Quynh didn’t want Andy to see her lingering panic and silly tears, as she had called them. 

Nor did he add that as much as it started as a joke, he kept shaving his beard for over one year, every single day, until Quynh’s hair grew back and she was happy with it again.

He didn’t add that he had started to shave it again after they lost her in the ocean. That his daily shaving routine was a moment not even Joe would interrupt and that, on the contrary, his husband would always do his best to safeguard, no matter where they were, no matter which mission they were in the middle of. 

He didn’t mention it was his way to remember Quynh, his lost moonflower, every day of his immortal life. That something as mundane as shaving was Nicky’s fraternal yet useless act of service to someone as precious as unreachable that he wasn’t able to hold tight anymore. 

A soul so immense that together with his Yusuf had shown Nicky light in the darkest of his time.

Oblivious of Nicky’s painful musings, Nile was having a hard time simply picturing him, always clean shaven to a fault, with any kind of facial hair.

Coming out of his reverie, Nicky seemed to read her thoughts, as he mentioned with an innocent expression “I’m sure Joe still has some of his sketches around, that is, if you are curious to see what I looked like with a beard.”

“Oh yes, Nicky,” she replied with a smirk, “Colour me curious and thoroughly intrigued to see you with a beard.” 

They kept sipping their tea in silence, enjoying the quietness of the night. Nile wasn’t feeling jittery anymore, actually quite relaxed now, but Nicky had grown serious again, deep in thought. It was a comfortable silence, as it often happened with Nicky, but she did notice that something else was on his mind. 

Before Nile could say anything though, he broke the silence again.

“I think I’ll get some sleep now, Joe gets grumpy if I don’t spend at least a couple of hours in bed with him.” He said that with a sheepish grin, eyes automatically moving towards the room he shared with his husband.

Nile smiled impishly. “You’d better hurry then, it’s almost 4 A.M.”

“You should try to get more sleep as well,” he replied in kind, constantly thoughtful. He then took her empty mug and started washing it together with the one he had used. Nicky always left the kitchen nice and tidy, Nile observed fondly with a surge of affection. She was feeling so much better, Nicky and Joe always had this magical effect on her. 

She stood up and hugged him from behind while he finished the dishes. “Thank you, Nicky. Sogni d’oro,” she murmured on his nape. And Nile hoped her gesture could convey the gratitude she was feeling, now and always, and Nile was glad to feel Nicky relax a bit in her embrace. 

“You too, tesoro,” he whispered back and watched her go with a small smile.

* * *

Nicky didn’t go to their room, to the love of his life who would no doubt sleepily welcome him in his warm and soft embrace despite the ungodly hour. As appealing as the prospect sounded, he silently passed their room, crossing the long corridor and finally reaching the door to their garden. 

He felt guilty for lying to Nile, sweet, sometimes frail but fierce Nile. He also felt bad for leaving his beloved by himself yet another night. How many times had it already happened that month?

But Nicky knew what was coming and he didn’t want to bother Joe yet another time. He had felt his eyes start stinging again when Nile had hugged him, and now his chest was tight and his hands were shaking. He scoffed in frustration at his own weakness. 

The air was crisp outside, and he shivered as he gently closed the door to the patio behind him. The garden was immersed in darkness but he could see the silhouettes of the trees. They were in the middle of nowhere, and all the bedrooms were at the other side of the house. He needed to be quiet but not painstakingly so.

So Nicky didn’t go far, he crossed the patio and crouched down, sitting on the steps in front of the garden. 

He muffed the first sob with his hand and let himself cry. For Quynh, for Booker, for Andromache and for their family, who was broken once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (Italian)
> 
> Sogni d'oro = Sweet dreams  
> Tesoro = Darling, Sweetie (literal = treasure)


	2. Flashbacks #1 - Immortal Husbands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the flashbacks begin! This is a chapter completely dedicated to the beginning of the four immortals' travels together. There’s some graphic violence (did I mention I like drama?), but it’s mostly about all the emotional angst. And how soft Yusuf and Nicoló can be. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to thank the super **ilostmyothersock** once again for her beta work!  
> Aaand a MASSIVE thank you to all of you readers, commenters and kudo-ers(?). You are amazing and I’m so grateful! Hope you’ll enjoy this second chapter too.
> 
> NOTES: Chiến Thắng = victory in Vietnamese = Nicoló = victorious.

“The pale one reminds me of myself when you found me.” Quynh murmured quietly, caressing Andromache’s breast. It was an idle touch, nothing sexual about it that yet elicited a full body shudder in the other warrior. 

“He is broken in a way that you weren’t,” Andromache mildly disagreed, relaxing under her lover’s caresses. She took Quynh’s hand and lightly kissed her knuckles, remembering like it was yesterday when she had finally met her companion. Starved and burned and lost. 

“Mmm… I see the same hopelessness in his eyes. But indeed, I also see he thinks he’s beyond salvation, which I didn’t.” Quynh partly acquiesced. 

She was openly staring at the pale man - Nicolò, currently asleep or seemingly so, at the other side of their campfire. 

She couldn’t see his expression though, as he wasn’t facing the two women. He wasn’t facing any of them, not even the poet, currently sleeping not too far from the Frank. Nicolò was on his side, looking out at the forest, his hand hovering over his long sword. 

Andromache followed Quynh’s gaze, she as well had noticed that the younger man always slept facing the unknown, always ready to act in mere seconds, almost as fast as Andromache and Quynh themselves. 

“He was fighting a senseless war,” Andromache finally replied. “Killing innocent lives in the name of his god. Too late he understood how wrong he was, that his faith had nothing to do with the sick doctrine other men taught him. And when the poet offered him understanding, and forgiveness, he thought he was unworthy. He still does.”

Quynh looked quite surprised at Andromache’s spot on analysis. “It sounds like I’m not the only one fascinated by his troubled soul.” 

Andromache let out a huffed laugh, “I had a long chat with Yusuf yesterday, when we went hunting together. He has a way with words, I filled in the gaps myself,” she explained easily. 

“He’s also quite enamoured. Although I’m not sure he’s aware of how painfully obvious the latter is.” 

“So yeah,” Andromache concluded, “I’m nowhere near as perceptive as you are, you little minx! You probably figured those two out after a couple of dreams and a 5 minute chat on the first day.”

“That I have,” the other warrior agreed smugly. “But it’s not fair you got to talk for so long with the poet, the Frank here was quietly reading by himself the entire time. He barely moved an inch from under that tree, it was unnerving!” 

Then she froze abruptly, like a brilliant thought had struck her. “I’m going to take him for a ride tomorrow, and I won’t accept no for an answer!” Quynh sounded so confident, and in truth Andromache could easily see that happening. She reached for a kiss, but her companion was still distracted, still pondering. 

“He deserves that kindness the poet is so eager to give, you know,” Quynh then added in a whisper, like she was telling a secret. “He has the same kindness in his own heart, otherwise he would have not understood his past mistakes so quickly and be repentant to a fault.” she declared with a peck on Andromache’s lips, no room for arguments. Not that Andromache wanted to, she knew better than questioning her companion’s emotional intelligence. 

“Only a kind heart would carry such a burden without a word, silently protecting the light of the poet at the cost of his, immortal or not,” Quynh punctuated with another peck. 

They had seen that happening many times in their dreams. 

“But most importantly,” the slender woman continued, her mouth almost brushing Andromache’s, “Only a kind soul could make the passionate and pure-hearted poet fall in love so deeply and unconditionally.” 

Andromache shook her head fondly, then reached for a kiss herself, falling in love all over again with the amazing woman before her. 

“You tell him that during your ride tomorrow,” she said with a teasing smile. 

“Oh I will, dear Scythian, I will. I have big plans for my Chiến Thắng,” Quynh replied knowingly. 

“Ah!” Andromache exclaimed almost too loudly, risking to wake the other two immortals up. “Less than a week and you got a nickname for him already!”

“Don’t be an infant, it was just too obvious,” the smaller warrior reprimanded her. “He’s going to be my victory, my Chiến Thắng, to ease him out this vicious circle of pain and guilt.”

“I can’t believe that,” Andromache continued, barely acknowledging Quynh’s explanation. “It took you months to give me one!” 

“Oh, hush, you were too big of an enigma even for me, I had to think carefully about that, you unfair goddess!” She replied, rolling her eyes. “Now let me take care of you before you get some sleep and I finish my watch.”

  
  


* * *

The blossoming bond between Quynh and Nicolò had been a wonder to witness and admire.

The first time she asked him to ride with her, the day after her talk with Andromache, Nicolò couldn’t hide his surprise and hesitation, eyes briefly darting to Yusuf. 

The poet, as the two warriors called him, had looked intrigued, moving his gaze to Quynh instead. He seemed to understand, same as Nicolò, that there was something behind a seemingly innocent invite. 

The Frank did accept with a small smile though, and Quynh and Nicolò disappeared for over five hours. Yusuf grew anxious and impatient at some point, but Andromache curt but calm reassurances seemed to prove he had nothing to worry about.

When they came back to their camp, supper was almost ready. Quynh greeted Andromache with a squeeze on her shoulder and a kiss, then promptly sat down by the campfire with a groan. 

Yusuf noticed that Nicolò looked quite tired himself, as he dismounted his horse and tied its reins to a tree, leaving food and water for Quynh’s horse as well - always the gentle soul.

After that, he joined the rest of them around the fire, quietly asking if they needed help with the food. When Andromache easily declined, he finally let his body relax.

During the course of the night Yusuf kept stealing glances at the other man, who was eating and intermittently conversing with Andromache, who seemed interested in knowing more about the wildlife around them, and specifically on what could become their meals in the following days. 

Quynh had tried to start a conversation with the poet several times, while absently following the exchange between Andromache and her Chiến Thắng. And while the poet politely replied on every instance, his attention kept shifting to the Frank and former enemy. _Had Nicolò’s smile, albeit still too small for Yusuf’s liking, gotten a bit brighter somehow?_

* * *

Nicolò’s smile did grow brighter over time, it wasn’t just Yusuf’s impression or wishful thinking. Whatever he and Quynh were discussing during their long rides and hunting trips - that were then happening almost on a daily basis, it was clearly helping easing the guilt that had been crushing the other immortal. 

And Yusuf could not stop himself from admiring the new light in Nicolò’s eyes, how they would sparkle in the sun and almost blind him whenever the other man’s shy gaze would meet his own. Yusuf’s hands would itch then, and he would grab his charcoal and paper and try to capture the essence of those eyes, the small curve of those smiles - again and again, never satisfied with the result. 

He knew Quynh and Andromache had seen his drawings, maybe even Nicolò had, but he couldn’t make himself to feel any embarrassment. Could they really blame him for trying? He was an artist at heart and he would always try to depict any form of beauty he would encounter.

So Yusuf kept observing the crinkle of Nicolò’s eyes, and the shape of his mouth, wondering what a real laugh would look like in those features. 

The first time Yusuf heard Nicolò laugh though, a full hearty laugh that might have ended up in a snort, was also the time he discovered that growing back a limb was excruciatingly painful. 

Therefore no hurried sketching followed the sound. Yusuf didn’t even get to see the effect of the laugh on Nicolò’s face. _What a pity_.

What happened instead was Andromache watching in horror as her labrys mercilessly cut through the poet’s arm, just below his elbow, shattering bones and tendons. The severed forearm hit the ground with a thud, Yusuf dropping to his knees by the sheer force of the blow. 

Nicolò’s laughter died in his throat and then it was silence as both him and Quynh realised what had just happened. 

Yusuf and the Scythian had taken to sparring every evening, while the other two warriors would start dinner together. The poet was usually a challenging opponent to Andromache and she enjoyed their training sessions, but _of course_ Quynh had to make the quiet Frank laugh for the first time since they all got together, possibly ever since he became immortal, and cause havoc in everybody’s routine.

After a few seconds of silent shock, things moved pretty fast: weapon abandoned on the floor, Andromache cursed loudly and went to grab something from her bag. Quynh and Nicolò quickly approached Yusuf, who was breathing heavily and growing paler by the second.

Nicolò kneeled next to him, his hand hovering over the bloody mess that was Yusuf’s arm, eyes locked with his former enemy. This was new to them, they had experienced death many times and in many forms, by each other’s hands and by different foes, but never something like this. They could both see fear and uncertainty in each other’s eyes, although Nicolò’s panic grew frantic when he saw Yusuf swaying on his knees and starting to lose consciousness. 

“Is he going to be alright?” he desperately asked Quynh while quickly moving to grab Yusuf and guide him to his chest. “Stay with us, Yusuf, talk to me,” he pleaded, eyes darting from the other warrior to the limp man in his arms.

Yusuf did look at him for a moment then, a deep frown on his features. 

“Don’t worry, Chiến Thắng, it will grow back, but it’s going to hurt like hell.” Quynh calmly explained.

Nicolò’s worry didn’t really subside, as he could feel Yusuf shivering in shock against his body. He hugged him closely, trying to avoid the bloody stump and covering Yusuf’s clammy forehead with his warm hand. 

“Here,” Andromache appeared again, handing him a cup with a dark liquid inside. “Make him drink it, all of it. It will help with the pain while the arm grows back.”

Nicolò obeyed immediately, murmuring quietly in Yusuf’s ear while he gently pushed the cup to his lips. After some struggles, as Yusuf was now in full shock, the cup was emptied and Nicolò finally felt the other man relax in his arms. 

He seemed completely out of it and the Frank realised that the liquid must have been a very strong painkiller. Not for the first time he felt blessed to have found these two formidable warriors, who never ceased to surprise and support them with their kindness, wit and centuries of experience.

“Look, much better already,” Quynh gently told him, pointing at Yusuf’s stump. Nicolò observed with a mixture of fascination and queasiness how part of the missing limb had already grown back, almost reaching the wrist. However he couldn’t help but ask himself dozens of questions. _Would Yusuf be in pain after his arm has fully regrown? Would he be able to hold a scimitar again? What about writing? What about his beloved drawings?!_

“You need to breathe, Chiến Thắng,” Quynh interrupted his thoughts again with a gentle but firm voice, lightly squeezing his shoulder. “I promise he’s going to be okay and he’ll be able to resume sketching your big sparkly eyes in no time.” 

Nicolò didn’t know how Quynh could always read his thoughts, he had stopped questioning that and simply embraced the comfort of it. He also realised she was right, his heart was still racing and he was breathing faster than normal. 

“Again with this nonsense about his drawings,” he replied after a couple of deep breaths, following her advice and lightly addressing Quynh’s jabs about Yusuf’s habit of sketching Nicolò. “I’m not the only subject. There’s plenty of you and Andromache in there.”

She seemed satisfied with Nicolò’s breathing pattern, as she didn’t push that further. The teasing, on the other hand, didn’t stop there. “Keep telling yourself that, Chiến Thắng,” she continued with a roll of her eyes, “But you must know that Andromache and I are this close to hold an intervention. You’d better hurry and talk to him!”

Nicolò sighed, almost resigned, and looked at the man in his arms. How frail and vulnerable Yusuf was then, while moments ago had been so strong and formidable. The need to protect him surged once again, the desire to hold him, to keep him safe. 

He yearned to touch, and kiss and worship, as he could see that happening between Quynh and Andromache every single day.

He felt warmth reaching his cheeks and guilt gripping his stomach. His eyes darted to Quynh’s, a mortified expression in his face.

She took pity for once and dropped the subject. She smiled softly, surprising him with an affectionate kiss on his temple and a caress to his soft hair.

“You deserve to be loved, my sweet Chiến Thắng, and you deserve to love.” She told him gently, once again impeccably reading his thoughts. 

She left them then, joining her Andromache, who was once again busy mixing the same dark concoction. 

Nicolò held Yusuf a bit tighter and didn’t move for a long while.

* * *

For the first time since they all started travelling together, that night Nicolò didn’t sleep facing the unknown. 

Yusuf’s arm had regrown completely, but the process had left him utterly exhausted and with some lingering tenderness. Once he had regained consciousness, comfortably lying on a soft bedroll and wrapped in warm blankets, Andromache had explained he would feel much better in the morning, after more hours of sleep. 

Yusuf’s eyes had quickly roamed around until they had met Nicolò’s vigilant stare, which still held some poorly hidden concern. Yusuf tried to send a reassuring smile his way, then wasted no time following Andromache’s advice and going back to sleep. 

Despite both Andromache’s and Quynh’s calmness and reassurances, as well as Yusuf’s latest attempt just then, Nicolò couldn’t really brush off a deep sense of inquietude. 

When he was finally ready for the night, the two women graciously spared him any watch duty, he laid down closer to his former enemy, facing his sleeping form for the first time since they started travelling together. After a few moments of hesitation, he gently placed his hand on Yusuf’s wrist - the freshly healed one, and closed his fingers on his pulse.

Finally at ease, Nicolò closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

* * *

Many things happened the day after Yusuf al-Kaysani lost a limb for the first time. 

As Andromache had told him, he completely recovered and went back to being his energetic self, ate with gusto the game Nicolò and Quynh brought back from their hunting trip and even asked Andromache to their usual sparring match. 

About to eagerly accept, Andromache then smoothly declined, not liking one bit to be at the receiving end of a very disappointed look from Nicolò di Genova’s big sparkly eyes. She was also glad neither Yusuf nor - goodness forbid - Quynh noticed. Her treacherous companion would have never let her live that down.

That evening, somewhere in their makeshift camp, Nicolò laughed again at another joke from Quynh. 

Yusuf did see the effects of the laugh on his former enemy’s face that time, breath itching in his throat and completely in awe at such marvellous display.

In the spur of the moment, instead of grabbing his charcoals to try and capture that impossible beauty, Yusuf confessed to Nicolò that his pure and angelic laugh was what had cost him his arm the day before: the delight, the surprise and consequent distraction it caused him. 

Nicolò teared up a bit at that point, as he would have never expected anybody to describe his laugh in such a poetic and reverent way, least of all someone from the people he had been taught to hate and that he had actually killed many times. 

Quynh might have teared up a bit as well, looking at all the emotions crossing her Chiến Thắng’s eyes, from guilt and pain to disbelief and an overwhelming love. She did spend the rest of their days together vehemently declaring otherwise though.

Completely oblivious to anything that wasn’t the man in front of him, Yusuf added that it had been totally worth it, that he’d lose a limb again to see Nicolò being joyful and carefree as he had never seen him before. That the next time he wanted to be the one eliciting that beautiful laugh.

Nicolò thoroughly and fully broke down then, kneeling in front of him and asking Yusuf if he could ever forgive him for invading his land and killing his people. That his heart could never be light again knowing the atrocities he had committed, but that he would try for Yusuf, if it made him happy.

Yusuf told Nicolò nothing would make him happier, that he had forgiven him a long time ago. _How could he have not, when Nicolò had the kindest soul he’d ever met?_

After that, many other things happened the day after Yusuf al-Kaysani lost a limb for the first time. 

But the most important of all were the hushed confessions that came after the tears, accompanied by chaste kisses on dry lips. 

  
Kisses that marked the beginning of the most epic love story of all times, the love story between Yusuf al-Kaysani and Nicolò di Genova, that through the centuries simply became Joe and Nicky, Nicky and Joe, the immortal husbands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, the flashbacks will keep going on Chapter 3 as well. And DRAMA will be the operative word. Thanks again for reading! And ALL the comments are much much appreciated.


	3. Flashbacks #2 - A Soft Spot for Chiến Thắng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flashbacks continue. 
> 
> _They had been travelling together for almost 200 years. Sometimes they would spend time apart, Andromache with Quynh and Nicoló with Yusuf, but they always found each other, they always went back together as a family to fight for what they thought was right and bring some good to the world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence and mentions of sickness. Lots of hurt here, but lots of comfort too. 
> 
> Once again thank you SO very much for reading and supporting - with special thanks to my super beta **ilostmyothersock**. Hope you'll enjoy this update!

They had been travelling together for almost 200 years. Sometimes they would spend time apart, Andromache with Quynh and Nicolò with Yusuf, but they always found each other, they always went back together as a family to fight for what they thought was right and bring some good to the world. 

Being reunited after almost two months, they were currently exploring some wild lands in the Austrian empire, trying to see if they could help in the war between Austria and Hungary. 

Quynh and Nicolò hadn’t wasted any time resuming their antics. They immediately reopened their shooting competition, driving Yusuf and Andromache mad on a daily basis as the other immortals were always at risk of being hit by stray arrows shot at random targets. 

Yusuf couldn’t really figure out the “rules” of this competition, and on more than one occasion he suspected that those two terrors were just playing pranks on Andromache and himself.

Except that his Nicolò was an angel and would never do that - he kept telling himself.

Nevertheless, he and Andromache had learned to be extra wary whenever the other two would disappear for hours and come back giggling like children. They would roll their eyes at Nicolò and Quynh and then fall in love with them all over again, a bit more every single time.

Since Nicolò was undoubtedly the best shot of their small family, and Quynh liked to remind them at any possible occasion that it was also thanks to her excellent tutoring, it was not surprising that no hunting session would happen without him. He was also less sensitive than Yusuf about killing animals. Not that Nicolò enjoyed it or that Yusuf didn’t understand it was a necessity, but if he could avoid his beloved some unnecessary unpleasantness, Nicolò would certainly take the opportunity and do it himself. 

While Quynh was the one who usually accompanied him (another excuse to be mischievous together, really), sometimes Andromache took her place, especially when she desperately needed to blow off some steam. 

There was less giggling with her, but more reckless riding at top speed and comfortable silences while they took their time to pick their prey. 

There was an ancient wisdom in Andromache that Nicolò had easily learned to love and admire, that he had sworn to follow and protect till the end of their immortal lives. 

And if that wasn’t a good enough reason itself, Andromache was also his dearest moonflower’s beloved, and Nicolò couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Andromache that would also break Quynh’s heart.

Not that the older warrior needed much protection, that is, Andromache was the most formidable being he had encountered in his long immortal life, and she had proven many times she would rarely need their support to get rid of any foe they might cross in their paths. 

Or at least that’s what Nicolò thought, while they were leisurely strolling back to their camp after a successful hunting trip and suddenly two arrows hit respectively his stomach and Andromache’s neck. 

He doubled over in pain with a gasp and watched his sister stagger from the impact. After no more than a few seconds he also heard the string of a crossbow snapping not too far from them, as whoever was attacking them was probably getting closer, confident they could now easily defeat the two immortals. 

He threw himself at Andromache, who was too focused to hear the hiss of the projectile while pulling at the arrow from her neck. The save earned Nicolò a quarrel piercing his shoulder blade and for an excruciating second he could feel the bone shattering within his body. He grunted in pain as they both hit the ground hard.

They were soon surrounded by at least fifteen people, sporting various weapons and all the intentions to finish what they started. But while Nicolò was clumsy trying to remove the arrow from his middle, Andromache literally growled and launched herself into battle. And Nicolò knew those men had no chance to survive the fury of Andromache the Scythian. He focused back on trying to pull at the arrow, but blood loss was affecting him quicker than usual - _weird_ \- and it didn’t help that the fingers around the wooden protuberance were trembling and slippery with blood.

Dizzy and sluggish, Nicolò almost missed the shadow of his attacker and barely had time to unsheathe his sword, while he was still lying on his side, to block the other man’s weapon. 

With great effort - _his injuries must be worse than he realised_ \- Nicolò managed to get to his knees but the dizziness increased tenfold and he watched almost detachedly as the other man inexorably severed his arm while mid-air in an attack. 

His sword clattered on the ground, together with his limb. For a second Nicolò remembered when the same thing had happened to his Yusuf, how scared he had been at the time, what had happened the day after that... 

It felt so far away now, and he wondered what Yusuf was doing, if he and Quynh were worried because of their tardiness, while he watched through half-lidded eyes his attacker ruthlessly unclench the grip of his severed arm from his sword, looking pleased with his trophy. He couldn’t really blame him, he thought absently, his sword was a fine weapon that could sell several pieces of gold in any market. He didn’t really want to lose his sword.

Nicolò startled when not even two seconds later the other man’s head rolled from his neck, body folding like a ragged doll.

Andromache was looming over him then, labrys still in hand and blood splattered on almost every visible surface of her body. Suddenly it was very quiet and Nicolò realised that the battle was probably over, that the older immortal had unsurprisingly dealt with every single one of their attackers. It was good, he thought with relief, it meant he could finally try to heal in peace.

He seemed to miss some moments though, because the next thing he saw was Andromache kneeling by his side, hand firmly holding the shoulder next to his stump while the other hand swiftly removed the quarrel from his shoulder blade. 

Nicolò’s world exploded in a new wave of excruciating pain that left him panting and on the verge of passing out. Almost detached from his body, he felt the shattered bones reattach themselves and the skin closing around the quarrel's wound. He had barely recovered as another wave of agony hit him again, when Andromache quickly pulled the arrow from his stomach. 

Writhing in anguish from the healing wounds as well as the regrowing stump, Nicolò doubled over and retched on the grass.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, little brother.” Andromache spoke for the first time, sounding so far away and distraught in a way Nicolò had never heard before. She tried to hold him up a bit against her body, but he convulsed again, gagging and retching more bile on the ground.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Nicolò felt cold fingers on his forehead, brushing away his sweaty hair with a hasty but gentle touch. “Nicolò, Nicolò, look at me!” Andromache’s demand was urgent and tinted with worry, and he had never heard her voice like this, but he was on fire, his skin was on fire and his stomach was on fire even if the arrow wound had healed already… and his arm, his arm was growing back and it hurt so much… he was going to be sick again.

Andromache gently shushed him, holding his forehead while he rode another wave of nausea and retching, trembling badly from the shock, blood loss and unbearable pain.

“I really need to see your eyes, sweetheart, please help me.” 

The unusual plea breached through the haze of his agony, and he didn’t think he was doing anything to hinder Andromache's request, but he really wanted to help her, to make her stop worrying. Nicolò did his best to open his eyes then, while she also pulled his eyelids up to better inspect them.

He heard her curse again. Then Andromache was gently holding him against her chest and slowly sliding the both of them towards the trunk of a tree. Nicolò did lose consciousness then, being dragged like that, albeit so gently, bringing a new ocean of agony too intense to sustain.

He woke up not long after, dry heaving again. Andromache helped him on his side, but not even bile was coming up anymore, even when his stomach kept cramping and convulsing. He felt delirious, still on fire and so confused, and the older immortal had never been so tender before, but Nicolò wished his Yusuf were there too, and Quynh, they must be so worried…

“Yes, I know, I know… try to rest little brother, we’ll find them as soon as you are a bit better.”

Nicolò realised he must have said that out loud, panic creeping through his mind at the level of delirium he was reaching. Andromache soothed him again, gently caressing his cheeks and wiping away the tears he hadn’t realised he was shedding.

_Why was everything hurting so much?_

* * *

In the end it was Yusuf and Quynh who found them, just a couple of hours later. Their horses came to a stop as soon as they faced the carnage in front of them.

“Over here,” Andromache called them. She watched the sheer horror in their faces as soon as they took in the state Nicolò was in, and they both were by their side in seconds. 

“My heart, what happened to you?” Yusuf almost sobbed and he knelt by Nicolò, hands hovering by, unsure whether even a caress was a good idea considering how bad his beloved looked. Nicolò’s complexion had grown steadily worse by the hours, skin ashen and clammy. He kept trembling and twitching, eyes rolling behind his eyelids. He gave no indication that he had heard Yusuf addressing him.

“Did you pack everything from the camp?” Andromache asked instead. At Yusuf's distracted nod she continued. “Bring all the blankets, and some water.” 

Before Yusuf could even think to move Quynh had rushed to their horses to grab what her companion had requested. 

“Andromache, what happened?” Quynh repeated in cold fury, handling all the blankets and holding the water in her other hand. Reading Andromache’s intentions, Yusuf and Quynh then spread one thick blanket on the ground, folding a second one to create a makeshift pillow.

They helped Andromache lay Nicolò there, covering his trembling body and bleeding stump with two more blankets. Despite their best efforts to jostle him as little as possible, Nicolò stirred awake with a groan of pain, eyes instantly locked with Yusuf’s. He offered him the ghost of a smile and Yusuf's heart broke again at the sight of his beloved in such distress. 

“Chiến Thắng,” Quynh murmured quietly, looking and sounding heartbroken. Nicolò noticed her too then, again trying to offer at least the attempt of a smile. She was still holding the flask of water, and she nodded to Yusuf to help her offer it to Nicolò. 

“Try to sip some water, my heart, you are still bleeding so much…” Yusuf encouraged while trying to gently lift his head. But Nicolò became even paler if possible, and weakly shook his head to move away from the flask.

“Try for us, little brother,” Andromache intervened, gentle but firm. “Your body needs more fluids to fight the poison,” she explained. 

Everybody, Nicolò included, looked at her in surprise then, so while the sick immortal diligently sipped some of the water and did his best to keep it down, Andromache finally explained what had happened. She told them how her and Nicolò were ambushed, how he had shielded her from the quarrel, how she had fought the bandits, their horses running away, how Nicolò had lost his arm, how she had grown suspicious at Nicolò’s sluggishness and nausea, to discover the quarrel he had been hit with was covered in a deadly poison. 

“I’m so mad at you, Chiến Thắng,” Quynh scolded but was finally satisfied with the amount of water he had drunk. 

Nicolò looked apologetic and quite distressed, and both Andromache and Yusuf shook their heads at Quynh. 

She stood up and left then, visibly upset, deciding to keep busy building a camp instead. And getting rid of the corpses of the bastards that had dared to attack her family.

“I have hurt my sister,” Nicolò dazedly murmured watching Quynh go. He was still delirious and shaking despite all the blankets. 

“You have not, my love,” Yusuf assured him. He lay down next to him, mindful of the growing limb and trying to share some body heat. “She was just very scared, Habibi. We both were for you and Andromache.” Yusuf gently explained caressing his head. 

“Mi disp-” 

“Shh, none of this is your fault, my heart,” he soothed his beloved with a kiss on his temple. “Nor is Andromache's,” Yusuf added with a pointed look to the older immortal. “You just need to rest and get better, we are all together again now.”

Nicolò seemed pacified by his beloved’s words, but both pain from the healing limb and poison still had an iron grip on him and resting didn’t come easy. 

“Can’t we give him something for the pain?” Yusuf pleaded Andromache with a broken expression. “That black concoction you made me when I went through this?”

Andromache looked distraught when she shook her head. “You weren’t also fighting a poison at the time… That would only start another bout of terrible nausea, believe me, I’ve been there.” 

The nausea came back anyway, as Nicolò finally lost the battle and retched the little water he had managed to sip. He looked utterly exhausted after that, hair plastered on his forehead and sweat beading his incredibly pale face and neck.

Andromache handed a small basin with cold water and wet strips of cloth to Yusuf, then she left them to reach Quynh, who was busy building a fire not too far from them.

“Are you okay?” The smaller woman asked her without moving her eyes from the smoldering embers. Andromache scoffed, and started helping her. “How could I not be,” she replied after a bit. “I was with the most self-sacrificing person in the whole universe. He told me he could never let anything happen to his moonflower's most precious thing.” 

Quynh froze for a second. She then brushed a lonely tear from the corner of her eye, a small smile appearing on her lips. Andromache didn’t mention she had teared up too, while she held Nicolò writhing in agony and confessing why he had shielded her from that quarrel.

“Why after all these years is it still so hard to watch him suffer?” Quynh asked, still avoiding her lover’s gaze.

“He’s our little brother,” Andromache said simply with a shrug, as the explanation was nothing but obvious. “And you’ve always had a soft spot for him,” she then added with a crooked smile. 

“I think we all do,” Quynh replied with a knowing look, not fooled for a second that Andromache wasn’t affected as badly by their brother’s pain. 

That Yusuf was currently inconsolable wasn't even in question. Both warriors glanced at him, laying as close as possible to Nicolò and murmuring softly in his ear with unmeasurable love and devotion.

But Quynh also knew that Andromache was right in a way, that Quynh did have a soft spot for her Chiến Thắng. And while it had started with her personal mission to show how beautiful, lovable and kind his soul was, to Nicolò himself in the first place, it had evolved into such a deep brotherly bond that Quynh couldn’t imagine her immortal life without him. Without their jokes and quiet mischief that systematically drove the other two immortals insane.

“You know he thinks you are mad at him,” the older immortal added after a pause, interrupting Quynh’s reverie. 

“What?” Quynh almost startled then, real surprise in her eyes. 

“The first thing you said when I explained what happened was _I’m so mad at you Chiến Thắng_ \- Can you really blame him for thinking so?”

Quynh looked down sheepishly. “He usually knows I don’t mean these things…”

Andromache rolled her eyes at that. “He’s growing back a limb and he’s delirious from one of the strongest poisons I’ve come across in centuries. He’s not exactly lucid at the moment. Just go and cuddle with him or something. He could use the extra love, he’s exhausted, in horrible pain and sad to have worried you.”

Quynh did look properly embarrassed then, mumbling something that sounded like _I guess I wasn’t too lucid myself_ … 

When she joined the two men again, Yusuf was tenderly brushing Nicolò’s forehead with the cold cloth Andromache had given him, trying to soothe his beloved’s terrible discomfort as best as he could.

“You’ll need to share him with me tonight, Yusuf,” she announced laying at the other side of the younger immortal. 

The poet simply smiled at her, watching his habibi almost imperceptibly relax at the second embrace, now fully enclosed by the love of his family during such a difficult night.

Too focused on his ministrations, Yusuf was almost startled when he heard Quynh faintly murmuring in Nicolò’s shoulder. 

“I was scared, Chiến Thắng, but I’m not mad. Sometimes I forget how big your heart is. Thank you for protecting my Andromache.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Mi disp-” cut from "Mi dispiace" = I'm sorry in Italian.  
> Chiến Thắng = victory in Vietnamese. Also Quynh's nickname for Nicky, as Nicolò means victorious. 
> 
> Thank you SO much once again for reading! Would love to hear what you think of this so far <3


	4. Flashbacks #3 - Quynh Is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The irony of such a brief moment of time to sealing the torture of an immortal lifetime.
> 
> _They took her, Quynh is gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter wouldn't be here without my amazing beta: thank you so much **ilostmyothersock**!

They found Andromache three days too late. 

Three days was such a ridiculous amount of time of their immortal lives, of Yusuf’s and Nicolò’s almost 500 years of existence and god knows how many millennia of Andromache’s. 

And yet, three days had been plenty of time for losing any track of the monsters that had thrown Quynh into the ocean.

Three days had been enough to condemn her to the cruel fate of drowning over and over again, inexorably trapped in an iron cage at the bottom of the sea. 

The irony of such a brief moment of time to sealing the torture of an immortal lifetime. 

_They took her, Quynh is gone_. 

Andromache had uttered those words as soon as Yusuf and Nicolò had appeared at the threshold of her dirty cell. 

She was shackled to the wall, fresh blood dripping from her wrists, not having stopped fighting her restraints for a second. There was a dangerous rage seething through a seemingly calm surface, but that was not what made Nicolò’s blood run cold. 

Exchanging a brief look with Yusuf, he could see in his beloved’s eyes that the other warrior had also perceived the defeated note on Andromache’s voice, the tiniest inflection that shattered Nicolò’s heart.

And that was it, the exact moment that would never stop haunting him, the moment that would torture him for the centuries to come, and have a constant place in his nightmares. 

The moment when Nicolò knew, even before they got the terrible details of the iron maiden from a distraught Andromache, that he would never see his moonflower again.

To his credit, he didn’t even flinch, keeping instead the focus on their rescue mission. So while Yusuf guarded the entrance, Nicolò kneeled by his sister, gently unlocking her wrists first and then her ankles with the keys he had found on one of the guards they had killed. 

Once Andromache was free, the rage seemed to evaporate from her body. Nicolò’s heart shattered anew when she finally looked into his eyes and he actually saw the utter resignation he had heard in her voice just a few moments before. 

That stare too would become a loyal companion of Nicolò’s nightmares, for a very long time.

He was about to gently guide her to her feet, when Andromache shocked him again and started sobbing in his shoulder, finally overwhelmed by the despair that had consumed her since they had taken her companion of centuries away. 

And that’s when Nicolò internally swore he would do anything in his power to take care of his sister, no matter what. And while she kept sobbing, tears soaking his thick cloak, he could hear Yusuf, his sweet and kindest beloved, quietly crying too, undoubtedly heartbroken by the scene in front of him.

Nicolò didn’t cry, as surely he had no right to burden Andromache with his grief. _What was his grief even, compared to Andromache’s loss?_ He could only apologise, over and over, for not finding them sooner. 

Not long after, they finally left the cursed place, Andromache distantly acknowledging the carnage Nicolò and Yusuf had left in their wake before getting to her cell. 

And while every one of them knew it was an impossible mission, that even their immortality was powerless against the immensity of the ocean, the day after they rescued Andromache they all started looking anyway.

* * *

They easily started a new routine. They moved from harbour to harbour, spending all their money to convince any willing captain of a ship to take them into the open ocean. 

And then they would just dive into the icy water, quickly losing count of the times they drowned themselves. 

They fruitlessly kept going for over three years. 

When they weren’t on a ship, Nicolò would keep his oath and do his best to take care of Andromache. He would cook her favourite meals - hoping to get her to eat more than just a few bites, he would sew her tattered clothes, sometimes wash and braid her hair if she was feeling amenable enough. 

It was evident that any small smile from the older immortal made everything worth it for Nicolò, but his Habibi was growing more and more exhausted, Yusuf could tell. 

He watched the love of his life work incessantly during the day, barely touching any of the food he so lovingly cooked, then spending most nights awake to avoid the terrible nightmares that were plaguing him. 

Nicolò could see the grief in Yusuf’s eyes, the worry for Andromache and Nicolò himself, so while he still did as much as he could to take care of his sister, he also tried to listen to his beloved more, to eat that extra bite or accept to be held at night, even if he wouldn’t dare to fall asleep. 

It wasn’t enough though. Nicolò couldn’t really make himself say what Yusuf kept imploring him to admit. Nicolò couldn’t let his selfish grief hinder his mission to take care of Andromache no matter what. 

And while Yusuf was on the verge of a breakdown himself, watching Andromache being consumed by her grief and the other half of his soul refusing to acknowledge any of his own, in the end it was Nicolò who begged them to stop looking for Quynh. 

They had just come back from yet another unsuccessful expedition, finally warm and dry by the fireplace in their small house by the harbour. 

They had almost lost Andromache that day though, among waves more vicious than usual, and Nicolò was furious. He had accepted that at the beginning the three of them had needed to at least try this impossible mission - Andromache most of all, but paying with the loss of another sister was simply unacceptable.

_What would Quynh say?_ He thought with a clarity he hadn’t felt in a long time. _She would call us fools, that’s what she would do._

Nicolò saw the surprise in his lover’s gaze when he voiced his request, and for a moment he was almost taken aback by the immense fondness and admiration he could see in those dark and beautiful eyes. Unsurprisingly though, Andromache didn’t take it as well, despite Nicolò’s best efforts to sound as reasonable as possible. 

“Have you lost your mind?!” She asked with shock in her eyes, jumping from her chair with such a force that had it almost bouncing back.

Nicolò held his ground despite her fury, with a calmness and determination that surprised even himself. However, he could hear the dangerous edge creeping in his sister’s voice, same as Yusuf, who tensed next to him. 

“We almost lost you today, Andromache, this is not how Quynh would want us to spend our time.” He paused for a moment, offering his hand in comfort. Andromache ignored the gesture, moving her hand away and averting her gaze instead.

“When was the last time we helped someone in need?” Nicolò asked then. 

When the older immortal pointedly ignored the question, he went back to his initial argument. 

“This is a suicide mission, Andromache. And while we can come back from the dead, today it has been proven once again how easy it can be to lose someone in the ocean. I cannot be part of this anymore and risk losing you as well, I’m not strong enough.” He admitted quietly at the end. 

“That’s disappointing, Nicolò,” she retorted viciously, cold eyes back on him. “I thought you would understand better than anyone. I thought you would find the strength, at least for her,” she then added, being deliberately cruel.

“Andromache!” Yusuf intervened for the first time, very aware that their grief and frustration of years of fruitless searches were now leading to statements that their sister would surely regret. 

“What, Yusuf, WHAT?!” She challenged him in anger, furious once again. “After all she did for him, how can he be so selfish as to even suggest abandoning her?!”

Yusuf was about to voice his retort, immediately outraged by the unfairness of that accusation, but Nicolò quickly stopped him with the smallest movement of his hand.

“We’ll _never_ stop looking, Andromache,” Nicolò declared with certainty, trying to keep a calmness he wasn’t sure he was feeling anymore. “But not like this… we cannot go on like this, it’s destroying us and bringing only frustration and infinite pain.” 

He took a breath, hoping to keep his heartbeat under control. “I know you are angry - furious, and you have every right to feel so. But I choose your rage any day if the alternative is losing another sister to a senseless destiny.” 

Yusuf deflated once again, eyes prickling at the intensity of his beloved’s plea, at the raw emotions he could see in his tired eyes, red and dull and so very saddened.

Andromache on the other hand, was still blinded by her grief, her cold rage raising again as she looked at Nicolò straight in his eyes: 

“That’s too bad, you just lost me anyway, _Chiến Thắng_.”

“Dammit, Andromache, that’s enough!” Yusuf all but shouted then. He felt like someone had slapped him in the face and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful it must have been for his Nicolò to hear _that_. 

It was a line that had never been crossed before, no matter how hurt they all had been, they had never threatened to cut their family bond. And addressing Nicolò with Quynh’s pet name had been downright heartless. 

She ignored Yusuf and left their small house then, the door banging loudly before they were left in an eerie silence.

  
  


“Hayati…,” Yusuf whispered brokenly after a few moments of shell-shocked stillness. 

Nicolò’s eyes were fixed on the door and all colour had drained from his face. 

“I…” He tried to speak but his chest was strangely tight and he was dizzy all of a sudden, with too many thoughts, fragments of conversations, memories and nightmares assaulting his mind at the same time.

He felt Yusuf’s hands on his cheeks, and they were so warm and reassuring, but Nicolò couldn’t really hear what he was saying, just that his beloved sounded so scared when abruptly his knees buckled and they were both on the floor.

The ground was cold and hard, but his Yusuf was incredibly close and he felt his warmth even if he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Nicolò, ti prego, ti prego amore mio, respira, respira con me…” After several painfully long seconds, the plea that Yusuf had been repeating like a mantra was finally registered by his brain. 

The black dots in his vision started to disappear and he was met with the vision of the love of his life, worried sick but offering him a watery smile.

“I love you so much, Nicolò, come back to me, please,” Yusuf whispered beseechingly. 

And that was it, it was a love declaration and a prayer that broke the dam at last, and Nicolò wept all the tears he had refused to shed in the past three years. 

He had no idea for how long, but his grip on Yusuf didn’t relax for what seemed like hours, his knuckles white and trembling, tears and snot soaking his beloved’s shoulder as he blabbered incomprehensible apologies and love declarations in return. 

Yusuf moved them to their bed, eventually, laying down with him and facing him as closely as possible as he gently wiped his face and dabbed at his puffy eyes. It was a lost battle though, as every time Nicolò blinked fresh tears would fill his eyes, leaving new streams on his sunken cheeks. 

Yusuf stopped trying then, simply bringing their foreheads together and carding his fingers through Nicolò’s hair, gently caressing his head as the sobs subsided into quiet weeping.

  
  


“Our family is destroyed,” was the first thing Nicolò uttered after hours of tears. 

It was dark outside, and Yusuf had thought and actually hoped his Hayati had finally fallen asleep, so he was almost startled when he heard his raspy voice.

He leaned back, just barely to be able to look at those striking eyes that never ceased to amaze him. They were holding such love and grief in equal amounts then, and it broke his heart for the umpteenth time that day. 

“We are still grieving, my heart, but that doesn’t mean that we are not a family anymore. And Andromache didn’t mean that. She will be back,” Yusuf confidently reassured him, as deep down he knew that their broken sister would see through her grief too, sooner or later.

Nicolò lowered his gaze then, almost afraid to let himself hope.

“I promise, Habibi, you know I would never say that if I wasn’t sure.” And as if to confirm that he sealed the promise with a chaste kiss on his lover’s dry lips. 

Nicolò looked back at him then, not trusting his voice again just yet, but unconditionally trusting the love of his life. He had lost count of the times Yusuf had dragged him back from the deepest pits of despair, and once again he thanked whatever entity had brought such an irreplaceable gift to his immortal life.

He must have at least shown some of his gratitude even without speaking though, as Yusuf offered him the sweetest smile and kissed him again, then hugged him tightly, keeping him close to his chest. 

“This world doesn’t deserve the immensity of your heart, amore mio,” Yusuf declared reverently. “But it constantly pains me to see your soul bleeding so much and you ignoring the wound. And I know Quynh would hate that too.” 

He felt Nicolò go rigid in his embrace, sniffing quietly at the mention of their lost sister. Yusuf knew he was treading on thin ice there, but Nicolò also sought his hand then, holding it tightly to find the strength to say what his beloved had asked him to say so many times.

“I do miss her, Yusuf, _so much_ …” Nicolò finally whispered in the darkness of their house. 

And Yusuf almost cried in relief then, feeling like a weight was being lifted from his shoulders, feeling for the first time in three years that they could really climb the mountain that their grief for Quynh was.

“I know, my life, I know,” he agreed eagerly, because Nicolò’s confession was so important, so crucial, that it deserved all the acknowledgement in the world.

“I know, my heart,” he said again, gently guiding Nicolò to look back into his eyes. “I know, tesoro, and that’s okay. The pain Andromache is feeling cannot be compared to anything, but you are entitled to feel your own, my love, you lost a sister who loved you with all her heart.”

Nicolò was openly crying again then, and Yusuf took his trembling hands to gently kiss his knuckles, before continuing.

“She loved us all so much, but she had a special love for your soul, my moon, and you for hers. You two were a menace together,” Yusuf truthfully added in the hope to lighten the mood a little bit. 

And Nicolò did smile gently then, all watery and snotty, but to Yusuf it looked like the most beautiful sight he had witnessed in centuries. 

“It’s the truth,” he laughed, almost giddy in relief, and Nicolò smiled again, a bit bigger this time, unable to not follow the sun of his life, not when he was shining so brightly. 

“Ti adoro,” Nicolò replied simply, almost in awe.

* * *

Time passed and Nicolò was finally relaxing while Yusuf stroked his face, thumbs gently caressing the soft skin of his prominent cheekbones. He really needed to make his beloved eat more, Yusuf thought for the umpteenth time. 

Nicolò had also started to shave regularly again since they had found Andromache on that fateful day. They had never talked about it, but Yusuf knew it was a sort of penance, a constant reminder, just as when Nicolò had shaved his beard every single day while Quynh’s hair was growing back.

“Andromache was very cruel today, I’m so sorry, Habibi.” Yusuf murmured after a while. And he hated to bring the seriousness back, but this had to be said.

Nicolò averted his gaze for a moment, not really denying the truthness of the statement. “Deep down I knew she didn’t really mean that, but she left so abruptly, and hearing her calling me _that_ … It hurt, Yusuf.” 

The other immortal tightened his hold on Nicolò then, still feeling quite upset at Andromache’s heartless snide. 

“Please don’t be hard on her,” his Nicolò pleaded then, clearly reading his thoughts. “If nothing else because it led to us finally having this conversation. I guess I needed a bit of cruelty to get out of my stupor,” he then concluded with a tentative smile.

Yusuf shook his head in disbelief. “As I said, this world doesn’t deserve your kindness _nor your forgiveness_ , my love. But you need to promise me that you’ll also take better care of yourself, cuore mio, _for real this time_ ,” Yusuf requested with imploring eyes. 

Nicolò looked almost ashamed then, “I know I have worried you for years now, and I’m so sorry Habibi, I have been very unfair to you...” 

Yusuf shook his head and kissed him again. “No more apologies,” he interrupted him gently. “Why don’t we start with a good night’s sleep instead? You are exhausted, amore mio… You have been for so long... And tomorrow we’ll get some food in you!”

Nicolò mumbled something then, already half asleep in his lover’s arms. He nuzzled Yusuf’s neck and settled in his embrace, feeling he would finally be able to rest for the first time after the longest time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so hard to write because I miss Quynh already :(
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it though! And worry not, Andromache will be back soon enough.
> 
> Thank you so much for following this journey and your feedback is always very much appreciated :)
> 
> **Italian words**
> 
> “…ti prego, ti prego amore mio, respira, respira con me” = Please, please, my love, breathe, breathe with me.
> 
> Tesoro = Darling, Sweetheart 
> 
> Amore mio = My love
> 
> Ti adoro = I adore you
> 
> Cuore mio = My heart
> 
>   
> **Arabic words**
> 
> Hayati = My life
> 
> Habibi = My love


	5. Flashbacks #4 - Braids and Chess Masters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromache comes back. Tears, memories and cuddles ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to all of you for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! You always make my day.
> 
> Forever grateful to my amazing beta **ilostmyothersock**!

Andromache came back the day after, early in the morning. Her rage rarely lasted long, but the whole situation they were living was painfully new to them, and despite the centuries spent all together, that had also been the first time Yusuf and Nicolò had been the ones experiencing the fury of the Scythian first hand.

So, while Yusuf had truly believed she would come back eventually, he had been less sure on _when_ that could happen: hours, days, years… all of those felt like plausible options in the uncertainty of their current lives.

Yet there she was, less than 24 hours later, tentatively crossing the front door with a cautious expression on her face. Such a quick return could mean many things, though, so Yusuf didn't count it as a victory just yet, bracing himself in trepidation 

Having woken up uncharacteristically early - because of his very important mission, he was currently busy preparing breakfast, trying to make it as nourishing as possible and adding a little honey on the side, to appeal to Nicolò’s notorious sweet tooth. 

On any other day that simple thought would have put a smitten smile on Yusuf’s face, because his Nicolò’s weakness for sweets was so endearing and such a rare occurrence, as there weren’t many things his beloved allowed himself to indulge in. 

This time though it left him with a bittersweet feeling and a sad smile, because that small weakness was something that the love of his life shared with Andromache. 

Quynh and Yusuf would mercilessly tease them about it, as watching two formidable and imperturbable warriors fight over a tiny, sticky piece of baklava would never cease to be ridiculous. 

Yusuf felt his chest tighten at the memories then, laughs echoing in his ears as he remembered Andromache’s affronted expression, Nicolò’s adorable pout, then Quynh rolling her eyes, twinkling with mirth, presenting them with another bag full of baklavas. 

_Here, children, enjoy your sweets. But I’m not making herbal tea this time if you end up with a stomach ache again._

These little moments were what Yusuf missed the most: seeing his family happy, the intimacy of each gesture, Quynh’s mischief and big big heart, the warmth in Nicolò’s eyes and his infinite kindness, Andromache’s carefree laugh and unwavering love for them all.

Now Yusuf couldn’t even remember the last time he had heard the love of his life’s soft snort of laughter, the only sound in the universe that would instantly brighten the darkest of his days. 

After the first couple of times they had made “the snort” accidentally happen, with the very first one being the most memorable (and gruesome), Yusuf and Quynh had started a secret competition, aiming to inconspicuously elicit that cute sound as often as possible. 

And Yusuf had done such a bad job at keeping that going in his sister’s absence, feeling so powerless against the silent despair and grief, against his beloved’s exhaustion and sleepless nights.

Nicolò never spoke of his nightmares - something else they needed to fix, Yusuf mentally noted mid-thought, but he could easily guess how memories like the one he just experienced would swiftly shift from laughter to iron maidens, tormenting his Habibi’s slumber nearly every time he closed his eyes and tried to rest. 

Yusuf was lucky to be mostly spared at least this side of the trauma, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a fair share of night terrors himself.

The night before his Nicolò had woken up only once, otherwise Yusuf had been relieved to see that his beloved had finally spent more than just a couple of hours sleeping peacefully. That’s why he was now more than ready to move onto phase two of his mission, and get his heart to eat properly again, hopefully enjoying some sweets too. 

When he heard Andromache quietly approach him in the kitchen, he looked over his shoulder, nodding at his sister with a neutral expression on his face. 

Yusuf wasn’t upset anymore. His tempers lasted even less than Andromache’s, they were fires that exploded from his passion and care. Nicolò was the only one unafraid to get close to those flames, also the only one truly able to quell them, as many situations in the past had proven, including the one which occurred the evening before.

Yusuf had been upset then, when his sister had mercilessly breached Nicolò’s last defense around his grief, uncaring when she was shredding his heart in the process. 

Yusuf had also been scared, because Nicolò's strength had always been an infinite water well, and watching him crumble on the ground, struggling to breathe and barely holding himself together had shaken him more than he would have imagined. 

Briefly shifting his attention from the meal he was preparing, Yusuf also noticed that after her hesitant entrance, Andromache was now looking at him curiously. 

“You are cooking... “ she stated, not hiding the surprise from her face. 

The other immortal did smile then, as Andromache had most likely forgotten the last time someone that wasn’t Nicolò was by the stove. 

In all fairness, Yusuf had felt the same himself, when he had grabbed food and pans that morning, just before her return. Every gesture had felt so alien and once again guilt had gnawed at Yusuf’s heart at the thought that he had allowed Nicolò to carry this weight all by himself.

“How do I fix it, Yusuf?” Andromache asked after an awkward silence, always practical even in her apologies. 

Yusuf took the pan from the fire and turned around then, properly facing her. For once, she looked almost as old as she was, infinitely tired and subdued. 

“You probably have to fix much less than you think,” he answered honestly. “You should know that Nicolò would never hold _that_ against you, not when things were said during such a heartbreaking conversation.” 

Andromache kind of knew, or at least she had hoped to be at the receiving end of Nicolò’s infamous forgiveness at some point, even after the painful argument she had caused.

“But you were also needlessly cruel to him, Andromache,” Yusuf continued seriously, “You walked all over his heart knowing it was broken, uncaring that you were scattering all the pieces away…” 

“It’s been hard to collect them to make his heart whole again,” her brother added after a pause. “I’ve barely started and I feel I’m holding the most fragile and precious thing, and I’ll do everything I can not to have it shattered again.”

She smiled sadly, not for the first time amazed by Yusuf’s ability to translate feelings into poetry, even when he was talking about something so painful as his beloved’s broken heart. 

“I know,” she responded quietly. Because Andromache knew what Yusuf meant with those words, it was impossible to forget the anguish in Nicolò's eyes, how they had widened for the shortest fraction of a second, clearly not expecting such a low blow from his sister and family. 

“I know,” she said for a second time. “And I know he’s right. I really wasn’t expecting that conversation and certainly not from him,” she admitted in awe. 

Yusuf smiled again, small and knowing this time. “That’s because he’s the best of us,” he replied easily. “After all this time he still manages to surprise us, with his strength and courage. No matter how much he’s hurting.”

Andromache smiled back then, another sad curve on her lips, as this was something Quynh would have certainly told her as well. _Oh, how mad she would be if she knew how Andromache had mistreated her Chiến Thắng the day before_.

“Is he out hunting?” the older immortal asked after a pause. It really did feel strange not to have Nicolò quietly pottering around in the kitchen, or anywhere close by. 

And most importantly she needed to talk with him, and properly apologise. 

Yusuf had resumed cooking, and breakfast was almost ready then. “No, my best guess is that he’s started reading a book by now, because he’s bored out of his mind. But he promised that he would finally let _me_ take care of him, for a change.” 

“And that we would take care of this family _together_.” Yusuf added the last part with a pointed look, wanting to make sure that Andromache understood that they weren’t giving up on her either, no matter how hard she tried to push them away sometimes. 

“So my first order of the day,” Yusuf announced proudly, “is that he’s getting a very substantial breakfast - in bed - for the foreseeable future.”

He held a plate out to her then, with more food than she had seen Nicolò consume in a very long time. 

“Off you go now, say your apologies and make him eat.” Yusuf gently ordered with a sweet peck on her cheek and a warm hand on her neck. 

The gesture wouldn’t have normally surprised Andromache, as her brother had always been a very affectionate man. This time though it took her off guard, as she certainly didn’t think to deserve any kind of affection from Yusuf, especially after causing him, and most importantly the person he held dearest in life, immense pain.

But of course Nicolò wasn’t the only one with a _kindness of which this world was not worthy of_ , because Yusuf’s kindness was as immense.

She headed to their room then, grateful and ever amazed to have such a formidable family with her during the most difficult time of her long life.

* * *

“Oh, that took a while, did Yusuf burn the meat again?”

Andromache couldn’t help but smile, as Nicolò didn’t have to avert his eyes from the book he was reading to tell it wasn’t his beloved who had just entered the room. 

He had also graciously broken the ice, ever the thoughtful soul. 

“On the contrary, I’ve never seen him being that careful before. Here.” 

She sat on the edge of the bed handing the plate to him. Nicolò finally put his book down, briefly nodding his thanks to Andromache first and then looking at the dish. His eyes widened a bit at the large portion.

“Surely he cannot expect me to finish all this food,” he mused but took the plate nonetheless and started to nibble at the eggs.

“Apparently you made a promise,” the older immortal mentioned offhandedly.

“That I did,” Nicolò agreed, smiling tenderly into his plate. 

They quickly fell into silence. While Nicolò was doing his best to finish at least half of what Yusuf had sent, Andromache didn’t really know where to start. Quynh always used to tell her how ridiculously bad she was at apologising. _Just start with I’m sorry, the rest will come_.

What made it more difficult - and extremely easy at the same time - was Nicolò’s patient silence. He kept eating, painstakingly slow, but not once he urged his sister to say what he knew she had come to say. 

For a moment Andromache had a clear memory of Quynh and Nicolò, sitting very still in front of a chessboard, quietly planning ten moves ahead of each other. They had discovered the game by chance, centuries before, when it had just been introduced in the Persian region they were exploring. The two of them had been completely fascinated by two men playing on a tiny table of a busy market, bought a board the very same day and never stopped challenging each other ever since. _Until… well_.

Andromache, nor Yusuf, had never mastered the game, but the other two immortals had become so proficient that their games could last for days. She had always thought that her Quynh looked especially beautiful during those moments: lit by the fire, still and focused, long fingers curving around those pieces, a mischievous smile gracing her lips after a particularly difficult move.

Considering the amount of sketches Yusuf would create during those games, Andromache was pretty certain he had similar thoughts on his Nicolò.

She looked at her brother then, back to the present, noticing he had given up on the food and was about to put the plate on the nightstand next to her. 

“I’m sorry, little brother,” she said at last, taking the plate from his hands and filling them with hers.

Nicolò’s hands were warm, still soft despite all the chores, and the cooking, despite the icy water of the ocean, despite holding a sword more often than he would like to.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, seeking Nicolò’s gaze. “I’m sorry for many things, little brother,” she continued because Quynh was right, everything was coming now. 

“I’m sorry, for not noticing your pain,” Andromache went on, holding his hands tightly, “I’m sorry for ignoring it when I finally did see it. And most of all, I’m sorry for last night, for using your broken heart to protect myself from a conversation I wasn’t ready to have.”

Nicolò squeezed her hands in return then, tears threatening to leave his eyes but holding his sister’s intense gaze nonetheless.

“Can I braid your hair?” He asked with a timid smile instead of acknowledging the apology. 

Andromache’s eyes widened in confusion and her brother actually looked a bit surprised himself, as uttering those words hadn’t entirely been his intention.

She nodded her agreement though, moving closer and fully climbing on the bed, next to him. 

Nicolò sat straighter, starting to gently card his fingers through the thick strands and easily untangling most of the knots. He then started to part the different locks, with deft fingers and a confident pace.

Andromache felt his fingers falter for a second before Nicolò started to talk.

“That time we got Quynh back from the monsters that had burnt her alive, I’m sure you remember, she and I went out for a walk in the middle of the night.”

“We left because she didn’t want you to see her weakness - proud creature, our Quynh,” Nicolò added as an explanation, fondness evident in his voice.

“We ended up talking all night,” He continued, his fingers moving to the next strand. “And you can imagine what kind of conversations that ordeal would encourage. So when we both started to grow restless again, too many scenarios with us losing either Yusuf or yourself, she sat closer and taught me how to do braids.”

Andromache’s breath itched, as she could almost feel Quynh’s fingers instead of Nicolò’s nimbly fixing her hair, if she focused hard enough.

“We had to use strands of grass, of course, as I had only hours before delivered the infamous hedgehog haircut on her. But somehow I managed to make her happy with the initial result. Happy that I had _at least the basics to keep Andromache’s unruly hair mostly under control_.” 

Now happy with his current result, Nicolò tilted her head towards him, unsurprised to see tears freely running through her cheeks. He was crying as well.

He sweetly kissed her cheek then, unknowingly mirroring what the other half of his soul had done just minutes before. A watery smile and another kiss, he guided his sister to his chest next, getting the both of them comfortable against the fluffy pillow behind his back.

  
  


“I cannot even begin to imagine the immensity of your pain, sorella mia. I know it scares me to see part of it in Yusuf, and I don’t even know how to deal with my own most of the time.” 

He took a deep breath before continuing, Andromache moving in sync on his torso, keeping her ear on his slightly accelerated heartbeat.

“What I know is that we are stronger together, and hopefully together we’ll become whole again.”

* * *

Curious and almost anxious to check on his sister and Habibi, Yusuf had finally approached their bedroom. 

His heart melted in his chest when he saw Nicoló and Andromache cuddled together, sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed. He wasn’t surprised to notice residual tears on their faces, but their expressions were peaceful and relaxed and Yusuf felt once again a heavy weight leaving his shoulders. 

He climbed on Nicoló’s side of the bed, carefully positioning himself behind his beloved, as per their usual sleeping arrangement. Then with his arm he gently embraced both Nicoló and his sister, who was laying on her side facing the both of them. 

Nicolò sighed happily, Yusuf held them a bit tighter and went to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My my, this was another hard chapter to write, happy memories makes me even sadder! Hope you enjoyed - I look forward to knowing what you think ❤️
> 
> Next chapter will be the last... and it'll go back to the present, right where we started. So, yeah, from past pain back to present pain :P
> 
> **Translations (Italian)**
> 
> Sorella mia = my sister


	6. Moonflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Nile’s vivid nightmare about Quynh, Nicky rediscovers an old hobby. Then a call turns their world upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the final chapter has arrived! We are back in the present and for once I think I managed to balance angst and fluff in equal amounts (maybe?). I also know that the end is quite unrealistic, but I just couldn’t imagine it going in any other way.   
> Hope you’ll enjoy it!
> 
> P.S.  
> I’m thinking about mini spin-offs and/or sequels… Is this something you’d like to see?

Joe had fallen asleep in an empty bed the previous night, and that’s also what he woke up to, on another grey day of late autumn. His back didn’t really hurt - it wouldn’t actually, but he could feel a lingering stiffness and tension in his limbs, from trying to hold onto something-  _ someone _ who hadn’t been there. It took him a couple of minutes to become lucid enough and realise that Nicky hadn’t joined him at all. Joe had slept alone. Again.

He knew that they were all processing the recent events in their own ways. Andy was dealing with her mortality as she would do with any other enemy: studying it and trying to predict its moves. Rediscovering feelings, details and moments that had been too brief or minimal to catch her attention before. 

Nile, so new to her immortality, was handling things quite well, all considering. She had questions, so many of them, but Joe did his best trying to answer them all, helping her understand, helping her keep busy, and keeping his troubled mind busy in return. 

He knew she often spoke with Nicky as well. Joe had the gift of instantly inducing warm affection and camaraderie, something that Nile had greatly appreciated from the very beginning, as it reminded her of her previous life with the Corps. 

His beloved though, his sweet Nicky, would always be the shoulder to cry on, the brother you would seek when you were in trouble, the one who would gently reprimand you but never deny you the warmest hugs and wise advice. 

Joe knew that Nile sometimes had nightmares. He also knew his husband had spent many sleepless nights since Booker’s betrayal and the ordeal that had followed. He knew the two of them would talk at night, when they were both awake and restless. 

And while Nile would feel better - relieved, understood, heard, Nicky would look more and more tired, an invisible weight on his shoulders, that Joe could see as clear as daylight. 

He was glad that Nile hadn’t seemed to notice, still too new to this family and their dynamics, but Joe suspected that Andy, on the other hand, in fact had. Joe had seen her several times in the past few weeks clearly making a point in helping Nicky in the kitchen, or randomly sharing affection with a grateful caress or a hug from behind while he was cooking. 

The first time Nile had witnessed one of these unusually sweet episodes - as she was mainly used to Andy’s rough and tough love, Joe had almost burst into laughter. She had looked so surprised to see Andy casually thank Nicky with a kiss on his cheek, that her mouth had opened and closed a couple of times before actually remembering what she had entered the kitchen for.

So, while Joe was painfully aware that their family was once again facing an incredibly difficult time, post torture and betrayal and the temporary loss of another brother, he was also grateful to have Nile with them, as her presence would constantly remind them of youth, first times and most importantly, that they still had so much love to give - to her and to each other, despite their grief and the pain they were going through. 

And that’s why instead of morosely staying in bed, Joe got ready for the day, looking forward to another training session with Nile and hopefully one of his long and passionate discussions with Andy. 

But first and foremost, Joe left their bedroom very committed to finding his husband and hugging him tightly, because it had been way too long since his Habibi had wished him goodnight the evening before, leaving the room to read in the kitchen and letting Joe sleep peacefully. 

Part of his plan also included spoiling Nicky with some freshly made bread, something he could rarely say no to, then taking at least a nap with the love of his life curled into his arms.

Satisfied with his ‘schedule’, Joe entered the kitchen, but he only found Nile there, in the middle of a big yawn while possessively holding a steaming cup of coffee.

He greeted her with an amused smile, to which she responded with a wriggle of her fingers, hand not leaving the precious caffeine holder.

Joe’s attention went to the window then, eyes immediately zeroing in on his husband, currently hunched over a flower bed in the middle of the lawn he was sure hadn’t been there the day before.

He shook his head with a fond smile. Nicky hadn’t taken care of a garden in ages, but it was something that, same as cooking, really relaxed him, so Joe was happy to see this habit coming back. And even if it was such a small gesture, he knew it was Nicky’s way to take care of himself, which would always reflexively take care of Joe’s heart as well. 

He also noticed that his Habibi was only wearing a T-shirt and it was way too chilly outside for that. Before he could grab the hoodie he had left on one of the chairs and bring it to him though, Nile started talking to him, having seen where his gaze was focused.

“Didn’t know Nicky was into gardening,” she commented curiously. “And I can’t believe he’s so good at that too! Those flowers are very beautiful.” 

Joe couldn’t really see them from his angle, as Nicky was almost entirely covering them with his back now. He did smile knowingly at Nile though, as he knew what his husband was capable of creating and how careful he could be with such fragile living things.

“Ah, Nicky is really good at taking care of delicate things,” he responded almost dreamily. “You should see him with puppies, and of course children adore him.”

Nile almost rolled her eyes in fond exasperation, getting quite used to Joe’s passionate and completely smitten declarations on Nicky’s many many amazing qualities. 

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” she also agreed though, because even though she might not feel the need to express that as often as Joe did ( _ nobody else could compare, really _ ), she had certainly experienced quite a lot of Nicky’s amazing qualities herself - very recently as well, if she considered the thoughtful chat they had had just the night before.

Which reminded her that she also had a very important question for Joe, before she actually forgot.

“Ah! Joe!” She suddenly exclaimed excitedly. He looked at her curiously, once again almost ready to leave for the garden, Nicky’s forgotten hoodie already in his hand.

“Nicky told me he used to wear a beard, I guess centuries ago? He also told me to ask you if you had some sketches, since I was curious to see how he looked.” 

That did surprise Joe, who almost laughed at the unexpected request.

“Were you trying to fix his fashion sense again?” He asked with an amused expression, remembering the younger immortal’s appalled expression the first time she got sight of Nicky’s minimal wardrobe. 

Nile actually snorted at his question. “Nah, I’ve learnt to pick my battles,” she easily bantered back. “He actually told me that he had shaved at Quynh's request,” she added almost shily, always careful whenever she mentioned their lost sister. “I had a nightmare last night, of when she was burnt alive… Nicky told me the story, the haircut, the beard…” 

Joe felt his heartbeat accelerating, suddenly painfully aware of the kind of night his beloved just had. His worry for his husband went up a couple of notches, as it hadn’t been just another sleepless night about Booker and his betrayal, as he had initially hypothesised. 

“Ah, the hedgehog haircut,” he commented lightly, masking his feelings behind the humour of that story. They  _ had _ laughed a lot about that haircut, teased Quynh and Nicolò about it for years… 

“And of course I have those sketches,” he replied to the question as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Let me bring this,” he said holding up the hoodie, “to that silly husband of mine, then I’ll look for those for you.”

* * *

“Hello, my love,” Joe greeted warmly, crouching down next to his husband and the newly created flower bed. There were moonflowers, dozens of them.

Nicky looked at him with a tender smile, his eyes a bit red still. He took off his cumbersome gloves then and gently cupped Joe’s face, greeting him back with a languid kiss.

“Good morning, amore mio.”

Joe melted a bit, quite ready to spend the entire morning - or day even, lazily kissing his gorgeous husband, but the icy fingers currently caressing his cheeks quickly reminded him he was there for a reason. Several in fact.

“Hayati, you are freezing. Put this on please,” he instructed, helping his beloved through the soft garment and then keeping him close to his chest.

Nicky visibly shivered, then sighed in relief when the warm fabric enveloped his arms and torso. Joe had made sure to keep it as close as his body as possible, to achieve exactly that purpose. 

“Grazie, amore,” Nicky murmured softly. “Hadn’t realised how cold I actually was.” 

Joe had thought as much, not surprised at all that his husband had been so focused to even ignore the crisp air of the early morning.

“It seems you’ve been too busy,” he replied with a smile, gesturing at the flower bed. It really was beautiful, as Nile had said. “It’s gorgeous, Habibi,” Joe complimented with a kiss on his cheek.

“I went to the market very early this morning, found just what I was looking for,” Nicky explained quietly, scooting even closer and resting his head tiredly on his husband’s neck. 

“She’s being in my thoughts a lot lately,” he continued softly. “In my dreams. It’s not just because of Nile’s nightmare,” Nicky added as an explanation, understanding very well his husband’s expression and the worry in his eyes. 

Joe held him a bit tighter, kissing his temple and his cheek, once again. He could guess why his beloved had their sister in his mind more than usual, but he asked all the same.

“Despite finding out about all the good we’ve been doing after all, I still feel we keep failing, Habibi,” Nicky admitted quietly. 

“We are failing our family, amore, the most important thing we have. We failed Sebastien, who betrayed us and is now exiled, we keep failing Quynh, still lost at sea… and Andromache now mortal… I feel our family is crumbling again and we cannot do anything to stop it.” 

Joe could only listen and hold his beloved, chest hurting from all the pain his Nicolò was carrying.

“And I keep wondering whether she can feel it, Joe,” Nicky whispered brokenly. “Whether Quynh can tell that the love of her life is not immortal anymore, whether this is adding to her already immense pain, whether it’s also her heart that breaks all over again, not just her breath.” 

Nicky lifted his head then, looking at his husband with big, glassy eyes. 

“Would I feel that about you, my heart?”

* * *

Booker called that evening. 

It had barely been six months, it was unexpected. And yet the French man had asked to meet them, that it was a matter of life and death, as much as that could matter to most of them. 

Andy, Joe and Nile had been waiting for him with a certain apprehension. While they deemed it unlikely that another betrayal would come - at all or so soon - depending on their single opinions, they had taken all due precautions. This meant that Nicki was perched on a roof, eyes set on their safehouse and finger ready to pull the trigger of his sniper’s rifle.

Nicky’s ability to stay still with unwavering focus for ridiculous amounts of time was a constant source of admiration from the rest of his family. 

His only true match had been Quynh, who had been as capable in battle as she had been during their infamous chess games.

Since they met her, Andy had been an action seeker, his Joe not that different, and full of passion quite often too strong to be contained. Nile had proven to be very similar too, galvanised by her youth and curiosity about her immortal life. And Booker… Booker had always been too restless to stay put. 

But not Nicky. Nicky could keep watch for hours, indoor or outdoor, hot or freezing cold, comfortable or in pain. He would still react the moment he needed to react, not a second too soon, nor a second too late. 

This time was no different, so he stayed there, unmoving, watching the scene unfolding through his rifle’s viewfinder. He saw Booker entering the living room, leaving the door open.

He saw Andy, Joe and Nile all tense at the gesture, the three of them suddenly suspicious and wary.

“I’m with someone. Someone you want to meet,” Nicky heard through his headpiece. Sebastien sounded so insecure, cutting to the chase with not even a greeting.

Nicky kept watching, still as a statue. He saw Joe and Andy tensing again, looking at the door, Nile’s curious expression. Quynh crossing the door.

_ Quynh crossing the door. _

Quynh crossing the door and entering the room. 

Quynh,  _ Quynh was there _ , with the rest of his family. 

And Joe, his beautiful Joe started crying while Nile observed the whole scene in shock and awe and Andy was as still as Nicky, paralysed, frozen on the spot, until her arms were suddenly full of Quynh.

They held each other for the longest hug, with caresses and whispers until the sudden: “Where is my Chiến Thắng?” 

Quynh’s demand put a confused expression on Nile’s face, startled everybody else in the room and almost startled Nicky,  _ almost  _ \- out his reverie, out of what felt like a movie happening in front of his eyes,  _ in the slowest motion _ . 

He watched Quynh turning accusingly to Booker, not leaving Andy’s arms but restlessly moving around: “You said they were all well, all together. Yusuf, where is he?” Quynh then asked his Joe with a note of desperation in her voice. 

Nicky finally reacted. After what felt like ages he straightened his posture and started packing his gear. He dismantled the rifle, putting every piece in its dedicated pocket of his backpack. 

Nicky was methodical and quick, while he could hear his beloved talking, talking to Quynh with tears in his voice, then telling Nile who Chiến Thắng was, what it meant. 

Nicky’s senses were numbed though he heard Joe again, now talking to him, a veil of concern in his voice when none of his questions were answered. 

“I’m coming back,” was all he said.

* * *

The trip back was only ten minutes long and it went in a blur. Then Nicky was the one crossing the threshold of their safehouse, the one he had been diligently watching till a few moments before. 

All eyes went immediately on him, all except for Quynh’s, she wasn’t there anymore and Nicky thought he might have dreamt of her after all. But the eyes of his family were still on him, and suddenly it was all too much to bear but Joe, his beautiful and kind husband was at his side in a moment, taking his heavy backpack from his shoulder and holding his hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. 

“We are living a miracle, my heart, come sit,” he whispered through Nicky’s fingers. 

And Nicky made to follow the light of his life - because he didn’t need anything else - when Quynh emerged from the bathroom. And she wasn’t a dream at all, she was real in front of him, and it was a miracle, exactly like his Joe had said. 

Quynh’s eyes widened almost comically as she gasped, then she lost all the composure she had exuded before, surprising Nile and Booker once again in the span of a few moments who had wrongly assumed she was the silent, dark and broody type. 

That image was quickly erased when she threw herself at Nicky with a squeal of delight.

Joe watched them with infinite affection, watched his Nicolò hugging their lost sister tightly, visibly shaking now.

“Oh Chiến Thắng,” she said fondly, finally taking the time to look at Nicky’s face while caressing his cheeks “What have you done to your beautiful hair?” She asked with mirth in her eyes. 

Nicky could only stare back in wonder, because he had missed his sister so much and now it felt like his heart was bleeding anew. 

Joe snorted beside them but he was also crying again, as Quynh hugged Nicky back close to her chest, felt him trembling, and felt his silent tears on her shoulder. 

“And what have you done to your soul?” She whispered with sadness while holding him a bit tighter. 

Nicky looked at Quynh once again, still incredulous but smiling through the tears: beautiful and bright and with a lightness he hadn’t felt in over 500 years.

“Nothing you can’t fix, Moonflower, nothing you can’t fix.”

  
  


THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all, folks! Can’t believe I managed to write over 15k words of self-indulgent angst and fluff... I’m so grateful you followed this journey with me!  
> I really want to thank you all for your time, for reading, leaving Kudos and the loveliest comments.  
> And of course nothing would have happened without the brilliant **ilostmyothersock** : THANK YOU SO MUCH.


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